Bosley Crowther in the New York Times (May 30, 1951)

Filling the figurative footwear Madeleine Carroll so neatly occupied in Fay Kanin's play, "Goodbye, My Fancy," Joan Crawford is working extra hard to make romance and liberalism attractive in the Warner's film version of that play on the Holiday's screen. And when Miss Crawford makes a mighty effort to do what she obviously regards as a significant piece of performing, the atmosphere is electrically charged.

At least, it is loaded with tension—or a reasonable facsimile thereof—when Miss Crawford herself is posing or parading within the camera's range. For the lady is famously given to striking aggressive attitudes and to carrying herself in a manner that is both formidable and cold.

That is the principal misfortune of "Goodbye, My Fancy" on the screen. Miss Crawford's errant Congresswoman is as aloof and imposing as the Capitol's dome. As a liberal-minded alumna who returns to her alma mater's halls to enjoy some sentimental indulgence and runs into a nest of reaction instead, she is adamantine and frigid where she should be pliant and warm, humorless and acrimonious where she should be good-natured and sweetly riled.

And that is a serious misfortune, for Mrs. Kanin's play, adapted by Ivan Goff and Ben Roberts, is not a notably sober or solemn work. Indeed, in its slickly stage-wise jumble of glib sophistication and romance, of sentiment and capsuled propaganda, it is just this side of farce. And all of the characters in it—with the exception of the heroine, perhaps—are nimble and limpid creations that might easily be taken for caricatures.

The president of the college, for instance—the man whom the lady had loved with a passionately girlish devotion when she was a student and he an instructor years ago—is a pleasant but somewhat artificial representation of the knight with a sword who has become slightly weary of causes and a little bit creaky in the joints. He is amiable and nice as Robert Young plays him. He will pass for a weak and frightened man. But he is essentially a symbol of faded romance in an intentionally lighthearted play.

Likewise, the lady's secretary, whom Eve Arden angularly performs, is a perfectly packaged wisecracker right out of the glittering Broadway bin. The Life magazine photographer, whom Frank Lovejoy makes a strident noise, is the ever-wise, ever-glorious newshawk who has been heroic since "The Front Page." And certainly the rock-ribbed college trustee played by Howard St. John, the old college roommate of Lurene Tuttle, the sweet young thing of Janice Rule, and the whole daisy-chain of college students that pops in now and then are farcical.

Thus does Miss Crawford's cold aloofness clash with the spirit of the play and create a discord of temper that shows up the artificial moods. For this, Vincent Sherman's direction is probably to blame—at least, in part—and the heavy garrulity of some of the scenes makes for more tedious toil. Only occasionally does the humor and the purposed lightness of the script pop through. Then it comes close to suggesting the amiability of the play.

As it happens, the bone of contention in the story is a documentary film entitled "Command to the Future," which is supposed to be a strong liberal appeal. It is, we're told, a blast for academic freedom, as is "Goodbye, My Fancy," in part. But we are never permitted to see it. Perhaps it would help if we were.

Variety (1951):

    Performances are very slick, under Vincent Sherman's direction. Miss Crawford, recently involved in only heavily dramatic roles, sustains the romantic, middle-aged congresswoman with a light touch that is excellent.

Austin Chronicle review (2001).

Although not a milestone in Joan Crawford's great film career, Goodbye, My Fancy is passable entertainment and an intelligent plea for freedom of speech and thought. In the role of congresswoman Agatha Reed, who returns to her old college to collect an honorary degree, Crawford is miscast and stern. Offset by a talented group of actors, including always humorous Eve Arden and reliable leading man Robert Young, Crawford struggles to find the light touch, necessary to bring charm to her portrayal. In spite of this, Crawford acquits herself professionally to the role and brings star sparkle to a film lacking in excitement. Photographed beautifully throughout the film, and reteamed with Young for the first time since her MGM days, she seems to be enjoying herself.

Goodbye, My Fancy begins as an airy comedy which comes off flat, due to Vincent Sherman's static, stage-bound direction. When the film takes a serious turn in its second half, and focuses on the dangers of censorship and McCarthyism paranoia, it finds a reason for being and improves somewhat. The daring message unfortunately hinges on a phony love triangle (the chemistry between Crawford and her two male co-stars never rings true), which erodes the impact.However, there are several dramatic scenes along the way in which Crawford excels.

The love triangle includes magazine photographer Frank Lovejoy, who is trying to win over Crawford by exposing Young (the college president) as a weakling unable to stand up for what he believes. Crawford still has a torch burning for Young from her college days, when they had an affair, and resents Lovejoy's interference. Lovejoy's plan works when Crawford discovers flame Young is unwilling to show her political film due to a disagreement with one of the school's funders. She realizes Young is really a stranger to her, willing to pander to the money people instead of standing up for education, and not the man of courage and integrity she believed he was. The realization prompts Crawford to reconsider the two men in her life, and which one is ultimately the most genuine. She must let go of her youthful romantic illusions about Young in order to find the truth -- that he is afraid of the same freedom that she, as a congresswoman, is working to protect.

Along with its potent message concerning free speech, Goodbye, My Fancy provides an interesting glimpse of backdoor political dealings. In one scene, Crawford counters Young's insistence on not showing her controversial film with a threat of blackmail. The scene is effectively played out, and achieves just the right note of urgency in regard to Agatha's passionate beliefs about free speech. When Young is shocked at her reaction, Crawford replies, "You learn all kinds of cute tricks in my profession, including never to play fair unless you respect the man you're dealing with." Over fifty years later, it still seems an incisive comment on political games.

Regardless of its shortcomings, Goodbye, My Fancy is solid, and certainly worth a look. As a Crawford vehicle, it is not ideal, but does allow its star to develop another fully-realized characterization of an emancipated and independent woman, in an era when women too often lost sight of their own beliefs in order to please men. It is well-plotted, but also stale and dry enough in its execution to be slightly underwhelming. The underwhelming quality of the film is, unfortunately, what has caused it to be relegated to a long list of forgotten, undiscovered classics.